


just one safe place where you could love him

by orphan_account



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Demons, Alternate Universe - Urban Fantasy, Angst, Childhood Friends, Feelings Realization, Hurt/Comfort, Inspired by Richard Siken, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Past Character Death, Pining, Platonic Soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-21
Updated: 2020-07-21
Packaged: 2021-03-04 19:41:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25431778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Now, Kenma hasn't really experienced loss or grief, given his lack of friends and connection to family members; but right now it feels like the word heartbreak is such an understatement because Kenma's entire universe has fallen apart.
Relationships: Kozume Kenma/Kuroo Tetsurou
Comments: 2
Kudos: 27





	just one safe place where you could love him

**Author's Note:**

> first work in the hq fandom let's goooooo
> 
> ok here's the thing: im not very happy with this. it's aproduct of many sleepless nights and writing while hungover but ive been stuck in writers block since december. and now im stuck in quarantine so i wanted really badly to finish this. but because im a bit Rusty im not 100% satisfied - also english is Not my native language andnim very tired so there are things that may be wrong or just make no sense.   
> either way, i hope you enjoy

It wouldn't be an understatement to say that Kenma was lonely for a large part of his life. He was never the most social of kids, and living in a mostly non-human neighborhood made for an environment where he couldn't really find friends in fear of his parents' disappointment. 

While his hometown wasn't the most unaccepting when it came to not pure blooded humans, the community was rather small - and the "normal" people tended to stick with each other, and berate the others quietly in the safety of their own homes. 

Kenma never quite understood that. As a child, he would look out his window, and imagine what it would be like to not be  _ normal.  _ He'd spend hours imagining himself with sparkly wings, hands able to conjure fire, or a voice that made people want to obey him; he'd also think about how disappointed his family and friends would be, and how he'd have to hide it until he moves out. After years of daydreaming and years of observing, he comes to the conclusion that maybe being the way he is isn't bad; it weirdly seems like non humans only suffer because of what they are. 

Then, a family moves in across the street and it makes Kenma rethink everything. 

Kenma is a little older at that point, a bit more independent in his views - they stray from what he was taught, but non humans are now proud and prevalent everywhere; it's the only logical view to have. 

His new neighbor is… odd. 

Kuroo is barely a year older than him, and is everything Kenma is not. Somehow, they just  _ click.  _ Maybe it's the fact that they're the only kids in that age range in the neighborhood, but they somehow end up spending most of their free days together. 

And while Kenma would always,  _ always,  _ prefer to just play his games by himself, it's somehow better,  _ brighter _ when there's Kuroo glued to his side, talking about whatever nonsense he can come up with.

He's always known Kuroo isn't human. It was always obvious to him - some things about Kuroo were just  _ off;  _ pupils of his eyes just slightly too big, mouth full of teeth that were just a bit too sharp. The energy that the older boy carried with him as well - at times it was like he has consumed the sun, and the light and warmth would radiate off him. But there were moments, like flashes of lightning on an overcast day, where all the light was gone and Kuroo seemed surrounded by shadows.

Kenma never asked about it, because it just seemed rude and Kuroo never brought it up either. It was something that simply existed in between them, as years went by and they grew closer. 

Knowing each other for so long and spending almost every day together can sometimes blur the lines between  _ just friends  _ and  _ more than friends;  _ Kenma isn't entirely sure how he feels about it. He's never paid that much attention to having feelings for others, but with Kuroo, he doesn't even notice it.

It's not sudden, like one would fall for a stranger they saw at the bus stop or a classmate they'd talked to a few minutes - but rather, a gradual build up over the years that has no big culmination or big reveal of feelings. It comes to Kenma slow, when he's alone and thinking - sometimes even when he's trying to distract himself - that he is in love with Kuroo. 

It should scare him. He knows what his parents would think. 

Somehow, it doesn't. 

All he knows is, he doesn't want anything to change in their friendship, in fear of his only best friend abandoning him. With every day that goes by, he feels it more and more.

The things that were once normal to him, now make Kenma crave  _ more  _ and every single moment becomes ingrained in his memory. 

Their hands brushing together as they walk, just that little fraction of contact sending his brain and his heart begging for more - but he can't do anything.

Kuroo's hand finding its place at the small of his back as they talk to his parents - and it's innocent, friendly enough that they won't notice anything wrong - but it makes his body flush, his mind screaming that  _ this is it  _ and _ this is right.  _

The two of them, laying down on Kuroo's living room couch, basically on top of each other. The places where their skin meets  _ burn,  _ Kenma suddenly hyper aware of every touch.

He comes back to those moments whenever he feels lonely, whenever it feels like something is lacking. They are not enough, never will be, but he'll have to deal with it. There still is a part of him that feels  _ wrong,  _ thinking those sorts of things about his best friend. 

When Kenma is sixteen, his parents begin to dislike Kuroo, and it's only the beginning of the end. 

Every time they argue, they bring up the fact that Kenma allegedly spends  _ too much time  _ around Kuroo, and that he should find other friends because it looks  _ suspicious.  _ They talk about the rumors of Kuroo and his family being non human, and although they have no real proof, it's still a problem to them. 

_ If only you knew,  _ Kenma thinks to himself in those moments. He wonders what made them change so quickly after liking his best friend for the past 6 years - perhaps they're catching on? Maybe they see the way he looks at Kuroo, how Kenma changes completely when having to defend him. 

Kenma decides to stop, decides that from now on, not even he knows about his feelings, as to not alarm his parents and fuck himself over. 

He doesn't quite get to do that.

On the eve of Kenma's seventeenth birthday, Kuroo goes missing. 

His mother personally visits him, looking strangely upset, and explains how her son wandered out into the woods behind his house the night before and he still hasn't come back. Kenma notices the glassiness of her eyes, how it seems just a bit artificial, but ignores it on behalf of the gaping hole in his chest. 

After Kuroo's mother leaves to talk to his parents, Kenma barely makes it to his room. His legs don't seem to work, and it feels like he's walking through thick sludge as he closes the door behind him and sits on the floor. 

Now, Kenma hasn't really experienced loss or grief, given his lack of friends and connection to family members; but right now it feels like the word  _ heartbreak  _ is such an understatement because Kenma's entire universe has fallen apart.

And the worst thing about it is that Kenma, who's always prided himself on being so logical and level headed in every situation, has no idea what to do. Because Kuroo was  _ so much more  _ than just a best friend to him; the older boy was an important part of his life.

And he was gone. Just like that. 

Kuroo's mother specified that he got lost in the woods for a reason; they're a wide unknown territory, and ever since he can remember, Kenma had always been told not to stray too far or he'll never come back. If there is any truth in that, he'd be willing to go there, just to get Kuroo back. 

The times following the disappearance are the worst weeks of Kenma's life. He refuses to go to school at first, not ready to face everything  _ by himself,  _ and barely leaves his room. It feels like he's been flayed open and left on display for everyone to see; with an empty hole in his chest and a heart bleeding for something he might never get back. A lot of his time is spent on research - local folklore, tales from his parents and neighbors, other disappearances in the area. His father called him obsessive at one point, saying that he should just forget and move on, but Kenma couldn't help the feeling that something was  _ off.  _

He knew Kuroo. And the Kuroo he knew wouldn't just get up and leave. 

Most importantly, Kenma knows that if he went missing, Kuroo would do anything in his power to find him. 

His research proves to be useless. Sure, there's the stories told to scare children and photoshopped hoaxes of monsters in the woods, but it doesn't bring him any closer to finding out anything. Local disappearances never mention the woods, and that's the part that plants the uncertainty inside of Kenma. 

Maybe there's no big coverup. Maybe Kenma is just living in denial because he doesn't want to accept the fact that Kuroo is gone. 

The search doesn't stop, despite everything. He reads interviews with famous non humans, stumbles upon obscure forums and blog entries with no reads. None of them give him any idea as to what might've happened, and by the time the third month without Kuroo passes, Kenma gives up. 

It's not easy, at first. Every time he sees or hears something about Kuroo or anything related to his disappearance, the urge to throw himself back into obsessing over it is strong. He can't help but feel like he's betraying Kuroo, in a way; would Kuroo give up on him so easily if the roles were reversed? 

Finding a new routine is hard for Kenma. It's always been something he relied on - and a disruption so big leaves him feeling lost for a very long time. Video games don't fill the void quite as much as they used to, so he turns to other sorts of media. He obsessively finds new music to listen to, new movies and shows to binge watch, even tries reading a whole book series. They work as a temporary distraction, give him new things to think about and they don't let him get stuck in his own head. 

It still manages to happen, of course. Sometimes a character in a book will say something, or someone in a movie will look so  _ awfully familiar _ that it almost makes Kenma sick with  _ yearning.  _ The little things, small details that no one would notice leave him crying, whole body aching as he remembers what his life used to be. 

He misses everything about Kuroo, even the parts that annoyed him to death. The memories they made together always stick out in Kenma's mind - they're more vivid, the feelings of glee and warmth that he always associates with them so close he could almost feel it - but not quite. He doesn't know if he'll ever feel that happy again, but what does he know? He's 17 and has his entire life ahead of him, and yet it feels like everything that ever mattered to him is gone. 

Whenever it gets too much, he recalls Kuroo making him laugh, comforting him, being a streak of color in what otherwise was a bleary monochrome reality. He thinks about how maybe things would have gone differently if he was  _ better.  _ Perhaps there were signs that he didn't notice, little ways where Kuroo would act off, times where his smile didn't quite reach his eyes. Perhaps if Kenma had noticed, he wouldn't be in that situation. 

He never wants to forget about Kuroo either. He recalls his relatives - grandparents, uncles, who have passed away years ago. As a child, they might've been Kenma's favorite person, but now he can barely remember the shape of their face or the sound of their voice. Because of that, every single night he reminds himself of Kuroo. The glint in his eyes when he was joking, the loud laugh that would always get them in trouble, that weird cologne he always wore that always soothed Kenma's nerves. He tries to remember them, so when Kuroo eventually comes back it won't be too much of a shock.

If there is one thing he is sure of, is that he'll do anything see Kuroo again.  _ I'll come back from the death for you,  _ he remembers Kuroo saying once, when they were laying in his backyard, sharing quotes that really spoke to them. 

But Kuroo couldn't be dead - no, that was not an option. Just the thought of it drives cold spikes of dread into Kenma's stomach and he forces himself to stop thinking about it. 

It's a long process, and there are times where Kenma wishes he could just forget everything, erase the past few years away from his memory so that thinking of Kuroo wouldn't hurt anymore. But after more months pass, Kenma slowly gets out of the state where it feels like his life is over. He makes an effort to study after almost failing his classes, and goes out of his way to actually talk to his classmates; because, unsurprisingly, he's learned to hate being lonely.

And it's not that the people he considers friends now are just a replacement for Kuroo - because no one could replace him - but somehow life doesn't seem that bad when he has someone to talk to. Shoyo lives close enough for them to be able to hang out on a regular basis, and Lev may be annoying at times, but Kenma can't say his bright and loud personality doesn't feel familiar. He never brings up Kuroo to either of them - he's sure they know. His best friend's disappearance, though there was never an official investigation or a public statement, became a huge thing in their relatively small town. Anyone who knew Kuroo, knew Kenma and vice versa; there's no hiding it. But they never pry, only offer words of understanding whenever something reminds Kenma of what happened and causes him to shut down. 

Just when Kenma had started to piece himself back together and is slowly coming to terms with everything that's happened, Kuroo comes back. 

Well, not officially. 

Eight months after Kuroo's disappearance, Kenma starts hearing weird things at night - scratching, shuffling, rustling of fabric. For the first week or so, he chalks it up to wildlife that might come to his house looking for something. After the second week, he becomes unnerved. Maybe it's some sort of supernatural being? Maybe whatever took Kuroo is out to get him now. 

The logical part of his brain shuts it down, but Kenma had been through too much he doesn't have it in him to be logical. 

After the third week, he decides he's had enough. When he goes to bed, he waits for the noises to start. He hears the footsteps just below his window, hears the shuffle of feet on the wet grass. Then, something hits his window. Once, twice, then a third time after a short break. Kenma tries to calm down his racing heart, tells himself it's probably nothing, and slowly walks over to the window and looks out. 

Outside in the yard stands Kuroo, looking as nonchalant as he could ever be. 

The sight doesn't faze Kenma at first, but then the reality of the situation slams into him like a freight train and he recoils away from the window, landing on his knees on the floor. He stares outside in panic, hands clutching his chest as he desperately tries to draw in air through his heaving lungs. It feels like a fever dream, like the universe is playing a cruel joke on him and Kenma feels like he's about to pass out. 

Another pebble hits his window. 

Kenma takes a few seconds to breathe, as his entire body seems to have locked up and froze, and slowly moves back to open the window all the way and lean out. He wants to say something,  _ anything,  _ but it seems like all coherent thoughts have left his brain, instead playing a constant cacophony of  _ it's Kuroo its Kuroo it's Kuroo it's Kuroo _

"I need you to come outside right now," Kuroo(?) says, and everything about it is so familiar it makes Kenma dizzy. They've done that countless times, snuck out of their windows to hang out at night while their parents pretended not to notice. Surely, if it wasn't the real Kuroo, something would feel wrong, right? 

"Please, Kenma," he pleads after he gets no response, and the whiny undertone in his voice is  _ too much  _ like him, and Kenma feels like he's going insane because he's already made peace with the fact that whatever happened to Kuroo will remain unsolved and he may never see him again-

It isn't real. That's the only logical explanation.

And because it isn't real, because it couldn't possibly be, Kenma does the only thing that makes sense in the moment. 

As if in trance, he puts on shoes, and climbs out of his window and onto the tree growing in his yard to get down.  _ That's how people die first in horror movies,  _ he thinks idly as he climbs down and steps onto the grass, still keeping his distance from Kuroo. 

They stare at each other for what feels like eternity, and Kenma just can't grasp how it could possibly be real, because it looks like Kuroo and sounds like Kuroo, but…

Kuroo went missing and had been pronounced dead a few months prior. How is he standing in Kenma's backyard? 

"I can explain," Kuroo starts, speaking softly and moving slow like he doesn't want to scare Kenma away. "But I need you to come with me." 

Kenma just watches him, still stunned and frozen in place. It's then that he realizes - Kuroo looks just about the same, but something seems off… 

Ah, of course. 

Though hard to see in the night, there are clear outlines of horns springing out of Kuroo's head, and if that night wasn't weird enough it doesn't shock Kenma at all. 

Kuroo starts walking, and Kenma silently follows him out of the yard and towards the woods that are now illuminated by moonlight; it's a captivating sight, but the fog spilling out from between the trees looks rather sinister and Kenma can't help but feel like he might get murdered. 

Well, at least Kuroo is gonna be with him? 

To be fair, Kenma still doesn't know what to think. Has he finally lost it? Is his mind playing tricks on him? 

Before they walk past the line of trees at the beginning of the forest, Kuroo turns around to face him. He looks different up close; sharper and more lean, now with horns and fully black eyes. "I wanna show you something." He says, fidgeting where he stands and when Kenma doesn't answer once again, he sighs.

"Do you trust me?" Kuroo asks, hand outstretched. The fog wraps around him in a way that seems gentle, tugging at the edges of his clothes, softening his features. It reassures Kenma a little bit. 

The horns on top of Kuroo's head are long and twisted towards the base, almost like a ram's; they stick out of his dark hair and look like they  _ belong  _ there. Like they were always supposed to be there. 

But his eyes, even though they're clouded with black, remain the same. Always the same. 

It's Kuroo. Kind, gentle Kuroo, the same one who helped him with his homework, drove him places anytime his parents were busy, made him food whenever he got too caught up in doing something else. The same Kuroo who almost cried after they fought once, the same Kuroo who walks him home at night and tells him stupid jokes when he's sad.

It might've been a ridiculous amount of time, but somehow Kenma can feel that deep down nothing has changed. Without much thinking, he takes Kuroo's hand and lets himself be led deeper into the woods. 

Even though the warmth of Kuroo's hand around his and the wind ruffling his hair are very much  _ real,  _ Kenma still feels like he's dreaming. He'd never believed in miracles, but there is no other explanation to this. 

The forest looks odd at this time of the night. The moonlight streaming through the trees gives everything an almost otherworldly glow, and no animals are making sound. Everything besides them seems to be still, frozen in time for a moment. 

The two of them stop in a small clearing, almost entirely dark save for the light from where they came from. Kuroo takes his hand away, and Kenma has to fight his instinct to reach out again. 

"You look like you've seen a ghost," Kuroo comments, and though it's dark, the smile in his voice is obvious. 

Kenma blinks at him, speechless for a second. "They told me you were dead," he deadpans, crossing his arms over his chest. "I spent the last eight months thinking you were  _ dead _ and you just showed up acting like nothing happened." 

And yes, maybe his voice cracked halfway through the sentence and maybe he feels way more upset than he should but Kenma thinks he has a right to be upset. Kuroo went missing without a word, was later announced to be dead, his  _ parents  _ spent ages looking for him and he has the audacity to show up and act like time hasn't passed? 

"Ah, well, listen-" Kuroo starts, now a bit sheepish, but Kenma cuts him off. 

"It better be a good explanation, because if I sacrificed eight months mourning someone who wasn't dead and driving myself insane trying to find a reason for all this _for nothing,_ I swear I will kill you for real." 

Kuroo stares at him. Stares at him with that  _ stupid _ fond look on his face that, in the past, would give Kenma heart palpitations. Currently it makes his blood boil. 

"It's not a great explanation, to be honest," Kuroo mutters, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. Kenma frowns at that; it's the first time he's seen his friend this anxious. "It's just- once I turned 18 it was getting hard to constantly hide  _ this," _ he gestures vaguely to his horns and face. "And I just knew it wasn't safe to stay here for much longer so I had to leave." 

And Kenma understands it, really. Kuroo could potentially lose everything if he had revealed himself; his friendship, his sports scholarships, respect of the people who now adore him. But there is one thing he still doesn't get. 

"Did your parents know?" 

"Of course. They helped me orchestrate the whole thing."

Kenma vaguely recalls the fabricated sadness in Kuroo's mother's eyes when she came bearing the news, the almost theatrical sadness in her voice. How he hasn't noticed that before, he doesn't know. 

"You couldn't have told me you were leaving?" 

That makes Kuroo pause and still for a few seconds. He looks away from Kenma, lips pursed as he thinks of what to say. 

The hurt that was there earlier is now amplified by his friend's silence, and Kenma clenches his fists in an attempt to ground himself. He doesn't wanna make a scene, doesn't want to get angry, doesn't want to cry but all of this- a culmination of eight months of grief and depression that he's barely started to move on from, makes his chest flare up with a dull ache, a mix of anger and sadness because he just  _ doesn't understand  _ why Kuroo couldn't just tell him. 

"I thought it would hurt less." Is Kuroo's response, but it's quiet and unsure, like he is just now realizing how bad it sounds out loud. 

It breaks something inside of Kenma, like the wall he has up inside of him has started to crack, and he turns away from Kuroo, too overwhelmed for a moment. "Eight months," he says, barely controlling his anger, crossing his arms over his chest. "For eight months I believed you were gone. People at school kept asking me where were you, and if I knew what happened,  _ and- _ you know what I had to tell them? I had to tell them you're dead. Almost every single day, I had to relive the fact that my best friend left without a trace and fucking _ died _ and my parents almost took away all my electronics because I spent so much time researching where you could've gone and what could've happened and every single day I had to live with the truth that you wouldn't come back and I had to learn how to live without you." 

By the time Kenma is done speaking it's gotten harder to talk around the lump in his throat and his entire body is tense with the energy it takes him not to break down and cry.

Kuroo is deadly still for a moment, and Kenma almost regrets opening his mouth, but then there's a hand on his arm and Kuroo has walked around to face him, and the grief on his face almost makes the tears fall.

"Do you know what that's like?" Kenma continues, now quietly. "Knowing that I won't get you back and knowing that I won't ever know what happened to you? I thought- I spent so long picking apart every single thing you've done because maybe I had done something wrong and maybe if I had noticed anything you wouldn't have left-" 

"Kenma, I-" 

"There was a  _ funeral _ , Kuroo," Kenma snaps at him, angrily wiping the tears that started to fall down his face. As much as he feels relief that Kuroo is  _ right here,  _ he wants to kick his ass for putting everyone through so much pain. "I had to watch them bury an empty casket because  _ they didn't have a body."  _

"I'm sorry," Kuroo says, and for a while, that's it. The two of them stare at each other in silence, Kenma slowly beginning to break down, and Kuroo seemingly weakened by his friend's tears. "And I know that just apologizing doesn't cut it, but- I missed you, Kenma and I just wanted you to know that I am sorry, since…" 

"You're not coming back." Kenma states, nodding his head in understanding. 

"I can't." Kuroo frowns, eyes apologetic. "But, if you want me to, I can keep visiting you. I can- I can still be there for you, okay? And then when you graduate maybe you could come out into the city with me?" 

And that - the simple prospect, of Kuroo  _ wanting  _ to see him regularly and Kuroo even thinking about him in his future is what does it for Kenma, and he breaks fully, now crying loudly. "That'd be nice." He mumbles through the cries, as Kuroo gathers him in his arms and sways them back and forth, the shadows now curling around both of them. It feels strangely comforting, being a part of it. 

"I really am," Kuroo whispers into his hair. "Sorry, I mean. This whole situation got out of hand, and honestly faking my own death probably wasn't the best idea but I didn't want my parents to have to move to a different town and-"

"You're rambling." Kenma cuts him off, now significantly calmer. It's all too familiar - the way Kuroo is holding him, how he's rambling since he's nervous, it all makes the situation feel more and more real. 

They stay like that for a little while, Kenma basking in the sheer relief that Kuroo is  _ back  _ and he's  _ okay,  _ even though he still feels betrayal and disappointment creeping up at him, but that's a problem that can be solved later. 

"I should get you back home," Kuroo notices, breaking the silence with a soft whisper. Kenma nods at first, but then the uncertainty hits him and he pulls away slightly, keeping a hand on Kuroo's arm.

"You'll come back tomorrow?" He asks, suddenly nervous at the prospect of this being their last meeting. 

At that, Kuroo just grabs his hand and begins leading Kenma back to his house. "I'll keep coming back to you, for as long as you'll let me." 

And Kenma doesn't have an answer to that, because his heart is doing flips in his chest and the sheer amount of relief that hits him makes him lightheaded; it was that all along, that Kuroo  _ came back for him,  _ and that he's willing to keep coming back, day after day. 

Once they depart and Kenma has to make the journey back to his window and his bed, the reality of the situation hits him. It all felt quite surreal while they were in the woods, too good to ever be true, but now as he's laying back down with a million thoughts running through his head, it all crashes into him. Kuroo is back, he's okay, he came back for Kenma-- 

_ I will come back from the dead for you.  _

Somehow Kuroo's feelings for the quote just make sense. 

  
  


It starts a new routine for Kenma. He feels lighter on his feet, no longer burdened with  _ what-ifs,  _ only worried about not letting his new secret slip.

He's good at keeping secrets. 

No one notices, or at least no one inquires about it - Kenma assumes it's just his introversion that didn't let it show. 

He doesn't mind. 

Everything in the world feels a bit brighter now, a tad more tolerable. Where he usually would spend hours alone, wallowing in grief and doubt, he now picks up studying properly, texts his friends and tries his best to not be too excited. 

At times it feels like it's all fake. Like it's some sort of simulation, like Kenma is in a coma or dead and whatever higher power there is, it's letting him see Kuroo again. But every single night, Kuroo shows up again. 

The knocking on his bedroom window becomes a sound Kenma is not only accustomed to, but waits for it every single night. 

Every single night, as he stares at the patterns in his ceiling, ears straining for anything, he wonders what it'd be like in a perfect world. 

In a perfect world, Kuroo is with him. 

In a perfect world, they are well aware of each other's feelings. They don't hide anything - gone are the longing glances and hidden touches and Kuroo shows off his horns with pride. 

The moonlight filters into the room, shadows of furniture stretching high and tall, looming over where Kenma is laying down. He wonders, idly, if Kuroo has ever felt frightened by the shadows that surround him. Surely, now that they're such an integral part of him he doesn't, but was there ever a time where his entire being just scared him? Has he ever felt lonely, thinking that no one would love him the way he is? How long has he tried to hide what he is, in fear of rejection? 

Kenma knows that it's not as easy as it seems to be, but a part of him wishes Kuroo could see how much more he is.

And although times has passed, Kuroo seems to not have changed at all. 

They discuss their everyday life like they used to; Kenma talks about school, mostly, while Kuroo reveals he had actually enrolled in an university in the nearest big city. 

The question comes up quickly - does anyone know about Kuroo's presumed death, and does Kuroo ever have to explain it to someone? 

"It's different there, the whole mindset," Kuroo explains to him one night, while they're looking at the stars. "People get it, for the most part. I've met a few people who've done the same thing." 

Kenma can't help but frown at the thought of it being a common occurrence. 

As risky as it is, Kuroo comes during the day sometimes. Usually it's whenever Kenma's parents are out of town, or too busy working to notice any weird noises. 

Those moments bring Kenma the most peace; just for a few moments, he can pretend everything is as it was before - even though it very much isn't and they still haven't addressed it. There's a new kind of tension, a feeling of unfamiliarity that's never been there, and it sticks out  _ so much  _ in Kenma's brain, but he knows himself and Kuroo well. None of them are particularly confrontational, so they'll just wait for one of them to finally snap. And Kenma's breakdown in the forest was just a preface, not an accurate representation of what he truly felt. 

When the moment comes, it's not as explosive and aggressive as Kenma would like it to - because if he could, he'd just yell at Kuroo until his voice gave out, hammered it into his head, let all of his frustration out. But, to be honest, Kenma is just tired. Everything in him just wants them to be as they used to, as impossible as it sounds. 

"I thought it was my fault," he says, sitting on the opposite end of the room, watching Kuroo frown. "I kept asking myself what I could've done to prevent you from leaving." 

And Kuroo tells him, "You couldn't have done anything," and he's so  _ sincere,  _ so honest, but the seeds of doubt his disappearance had placed in Kenma's chest just keep growing. 

"You shouldn't have been alone with all that," Kenma argues, but there's no power behind his arguments. "If I was there for you more often, maybe things would have been different."

That's all the discussion is. Kenma constantly blaming himself, and Kuroo retaliating with saying that he would've done it anyways.

It ends in Kuroo leaving wordlessly, and doesn't bring them any closure whatsoever. But the tension seems to dissipate, but Kenma can't tell if it's really doing so, or if they're just pretending as to not hurt each other. 

With time, they get better at everything. Kenma finally remembers that with Kuroo, he doesn't have to internalize everything and can say whatever is on his mind, and so does Kuroo, apparently. 

Kenma had never seen him look so  _ free,  _ as he does when opening up about something, horns sharp and shiny, the shadows thick as fog around him; how he was always supposed to be. 

Now that things are looking up again, and Kenma feels as stable as ever, he's not quite sure what to do about the sudden influx of feelings he had buried deep inside of him. Nothing has ever felt like this.

Nothing -  _ no one  _ \- has ever made Kenma feel happiness to degrees he once saw as unreachable, even after putting him through months of grief that ate him from the inside. Nothing has ever made him feel so  _ alive,  _ like he's burning bright, whole body alight and so  _ real.  _

After spending years floating through life, like stating through glass at a monochrome scene in front of him, suddenly feeling real and living in the moment is a feeling he is unfamiliar with.

It should scare him, but it doesn't. 

Somewhere in his chest, there's a void that can only be filled by him. And even though it's wrong, it's  _ sick,  _ to want things like that to happen, Kenma lays there and lets himself  _ want,  _ lets his mind drift into meaningless daydreams where there's always a hand around his, a ghost of an arm around his waist, the fleeting shadow of a smile in his peripheral vision. 

Kenma imagines a future where they wouldn't have to hide. Imagines being somewhere else -  _ anywhere is good, as long as they're together _ \- where they're away from the ever present prying eyes of family and neighbors, away from vague words condemning what he is. Somewhere where Kuroo can live in the daylight and not be at risk because of it. 

Never in his life has Kenma allowed himself to feel  _ selfish.  _ But just this once, he does. 

But, there are nights opposite of that. Nights where Kenma can't look Kuroo in the eyes, because he's  _ sick,  _ for even thinking about his friend in that way, and if he does one thing wrong it's all going to be ruined and Kuroo will leave again-

And Kenma stays quiet. He tries to limit the glances, the touches, the smiles so that nothing goes wrong.

The guilt eats away at his insides anyways. 

  
  
  


And yet, Kuroo keeps coming and Kenma keeps wanting more. 

They get more brave, a bit more risky; Kenma asks Shoyo to lie that they're having a sleepover while he visits Kuroo in the city. Kenma's parents are not as overprotective as they once were, but he he feels more secure knowing his friend will help him. 

He takes the train by himself, only slightly anxious at the thoughts of not seeing anyone waiting at the station. 

To his relief, Kuroo is there, standing with his hands in his pockets and a relaxed smile on his face. The sight makes Kenma's heart flip in his chest, but he buries it and moves on. 

They walk around the city together; and Kenma had been there many, many times, but being with Kuroo feels like experiencing everything for the first time. Together they walk along the streets, point out funny things in store windows, get dinner together, and explore and  _ talk and talk  _ until the moon is high up in the sky and Kuroo is illuminated only by the neon lights of the billboards. 

_ I love him,  _ Kenma realizes as they make their way to Kuroo's apartment. And it doesn't  _ hit  _ him, it's not a huge realization because Kenma has been sure of it for a long, long time; it's just taken him time to realize it and put it into words. The words fly around his head, repeating over and over again as they walk inside, as he showers and as he lays down in Kuroo's bed that night.

(Kuroo has taken the couch in his own apartment, acting like the two of them never shared a bed before. Kenma figures that perhaps it's a good thing.) 

He stays with Kuroo for another day, and leaves in the evening. Kuroo walks him to the station, and everything is normal between them until they make it to their destination. They're early - the train won't be there for another 40 minutes, and Kenma would usually get annoyed for leaving so early but he imagines they'll find a way to kill the time. 

It's almost eerie how empty the station is - Kenma is taking the last train, knowing that barely anyone is ever on it, and no one is at the platform when they show up. The two of them sit down on a bench, and start discussing a new show they've started to watch. Kenma watches as the sun sets, and the light streaming through the windows turns Kuroo's face all shades of pink and purple, his horns glittering with an almost iridescent shine to them; it distracts him from the conversation enough to blurt it out when Kuroo is done speaking. 

"I love you," he says, and he's said it to Kuroo before, but never in that way, and now Kuroo is quiet and Kenma has just ruined everything by saying it out loud- 

But Kuroo just blinks and smiles at him. "I know," he says, reaching out to squeeze Kenma's hand. "I love you too." 

And that's it. 

It doesn't really change anything between them - they act the same way they used to, but now with less fear and less hesitation. They're just as close, just as open around one another it makes Kenma wonder if perhaps, they were meant to meet. 

At times, it feels like he's known Kuroo for longer than he's known himself - like the bond between them runs deep, and is hundreds of years old. 

Like they were meant to find each other. 

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> you made it through, congrats!  
> like i said, this is my first time writing anything and posting it since december . so my skills are not as good as they once were. so id be grateful for any feedback<3


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